


At Least Not With Me

by aromistic



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, and set right before the white heron cup and goddess tower encounter, based on one of dorothea's counselor questions, bc they didnt say it but we know, this is GD route with recruits, tw for discussions of past sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21691414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aromistic/pseuds/aromistic
Summary: "If someone is having trouble falling asleep, you could sing them a lullaby, but you can’t really do that for yourself. Is there anything you can do to help yourself fall asleep?"Having trouble sleeping, huh?Byleth wrote back, "Next time you're sleepless, stop by my quarters. We can chat and perhaps figure out what ails you."She turned away from the counselor's advice box and wondered who would come knocking tonight.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 147





	At Least Not With Me

Byleth looked at the little note in her hand. It was decorated in perfect stylish handwriting, but carried an undercurrent of tension.

_"If someone is having trouble falling asleep, you could sing them a lullaby, but you can’t really do that for yourself. Is there anything you can do to help yourself fall asleep?"_

Having trouble sleeping, huh?

Byleth wrote back, "Next time you're sleepless, stop by my quarters. We can chat and perhaps figure out what ails you."

Her response was innocent enough, considering she didn’t exactly know the author of the note. Racking her brain for who it could be, she thought of Annette, Hilda and Dorothea. Mercedes could’ve been a candidate, but for such a pretty and well-kept girl her handwriting was atrocious. Annette and Dorothea were more likely considering the mention of a lullaby. She also considered some students outside of her class — she'd be willing to aid them even if they weren’t her pupils.

She didn't understand it when she first began teaching at the monastery, but after a few months she was reminded of the emotional toll of taking lives. She'd seen the sickened looks on Ignatz's face, the hollow posture after Sylvain dealt the final blow to his brother. She'd held Marianne the first time she'd struck down a bandit and vomited on sacred Red Canyon soil. It had been almost a decade since the first blade Byleth had plunged in a man's chest. Her memory was terrible — it's always been — and she had no idea if it affected her at the time. She didn’t remember his face. But she remembered her students.

She turned away from the counselor's advice box and wondered who would come knocking tonight.

________________________________________

The light taps on her door didn't wake her — she'd been grading tactical essays well into the night.

She was unsurprised to see Dorothea at the door, but the girl's expression took away all the satisfaction of being right. Her face was partly obscured with the moonlight behind her, but Byleth's candlelight caught the drops at her eyelashes.

Dorothea sniffled delicately and forced a cheery face. Her voice betrayed it completely.

"Hello Professor... You answered my note this morning so I hoped I could come by." She sounded more timid than Byleth had ever heard her.

"Of course, come in." Byleth was aware of how flat her affect could be. What was once natural now frustrated her — there were countless times she'd wanted to help her students when they were confused or upset. But she had no way of knowing how to begin.

This time she made the effort and grasped Dorothea's cold hand as she led her inside. Dorothea fingers twitched, then settled. She let out a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry, I... hate to bother you this late. Is now not a good time?"

Byleth did her best approximation of a comforting smile. "I asked you in, didn't I?"

Byleth sat back in her chair and Dorothea hesitated before taking the cue and sitting on the edge of the bed. Byleth wondered if bold Dorothea would be quite so cautious in the daytime. She'd seen Dorothea sprawled across Hilda's bed, gossiping and doing hair and rejoicing to have _someone_ to do normal things with. But this situation was the opposite. And the candlelight probably didn't help.

Byleth leaned forward, legs spread, and set her elbows on her knees.

"What's on your mind, Dorothea?"

She saw a hundred emotions fly across her face. Byleth knew she was horrible at facial expressions and horrible at social cues — and often found herself being thankful for Dorothea's expressive face. Dorothea had once expressed how vulnerable Byleth made her — but Byleth didn't think she was doing anything particularly strange. She just looked and observed and absorbed, and Dorothea had a lot to look at.

But among the mess of thoughts she must have been feeling, Byleth couldn't discern a single one. She was unsure if it was dating trouble, the upcoming dance competition, the existential worry about their monthly battles, or the strange looming tension that sat in the air.

"You don't waste any time on small talk, do you Professor?" She cast her eyes to the floor. "I've been thinking about how I grew up, actually. I'm not sure how much I've told you."

"I was 13 when Manuela found me. I had just been singing on streets... I was spending more time by the opera house, because the acoustics in the alley were incredible. I'd see these incredible women leave the back way every night. Covered in gowns and jewels and dripping with this _confidence_. And I'd hear them sing like birds, and it'd echo each night and I'd look up at the stars and want that. Want to be with them. To be among the birds, among the stars..."

She shifts on the bed, her hands coiled in her lap.

"And Manuela heard me singing with them, and everything happened so fast. I was the little starling," she chuckles. "But as much as I was elated, things began to change. I got countless lovely gifts and compliments from nobles who would've spat at me on the street. And I had to maintain the image of the opera house, despite feeling like this feral, dirty thing. This _fraud_. Like these nobles would remember me and everything would be gone. But I also wanted them to remember, so I could have the satisfaction of showing them how ugly and wrong they were..."

She trailed off and Byleth breathed in her silence. Dorothea hadn't looked up even once.

"A lot of people.... Did a lot of terrible things to me, you know."

Byleth's fists tightened. She sat up straighter.

"I mean, there's so many stories I don't even know where to start." Her voice sounded shallower, her breathing more rushed. "This one time... It was very soon after I'd started singing... A noble who'd come to my shows took special interest in me. After each performance he'd bring me flowers and stare at me, and every time it'd make my skin crawl. One night he... took me into a dressing room and we sat down and he grabbed me by the ankles and he...." Her voice broke and she shuddered and turned away.

"He said I was the most beautiful flower he'd ever seen, and then he said these vile things to me..." Tears fell on Byleth's sheets. "And then he—" She started sobbing.

Dorothea didn't have to say it. Byleth already knew.

Byleth reached out and put a calloused hand on Dorothea's clenched fists. Dorothea leaned into the touch like it was exactly what she needed, gripping Byleths hand almost-too-tightly.

"And I," she heaved out through sobs. "I couldn't say anything. I mean, I was so young. One of the other songstresses found out about it and told me to get over it... That it happens all the time and I should get _used_ to it. That it's the price of being pretty and famous." Byleth squeezed her hand in return — probably too tightly herself.

Then Dorothea laughed. "You should've seen Manuela's face though, I'd never seen a woman hit someone that hard." She looked at Byleth for the first time, and Byleth felt her own sharp and angry expression melt as she's met with Dorothea's open face. The saddest smile she'd ever seen — but there was light in Dorothea's eyes that she knew carried her unconquerable spirit.

Byleth loosened her grip, and coaxed Dorothea to do the same. 

Dorothea looked into her eyes again, but this time her face fell. "I'm sorry for telling you so much. I don't know why, but it's like I said. You look at me once and it's like I can't help but give myself to you."

She seemed to notice what she just said and looked away again.

"Don't apologize." Byleth voice sounded too forceful in her own ears.

"I mean, uhh... You don't have to. Really. I'm so sorry that happened to you, but thank you for sharing it with me." Byleth looked away too. "I know it's hard for you to let people in. And I know I make you uncomfortable sometimes, and I'm sorry for that. But I'm glad you were at least comfortable enough to trust me with this. I take it this is why you aren't sleeping?"

Dorothea nodded somberly. "I'm usually better at staying distracted, or at least blocking it out. A whole lot has happened since then. Some things have been arguably worse — I mean, I'm surrounded by death constantly now. It feels silly to obsess over something that happened so long ago when I could lose the people I care about any day now."

"It's not silly!" Byleth raised her voice again, then let out a frustrated sigh and covered her eyes with her free hand. 

But instead of being affronted by her outburst, Dorothea laughed. It was a quiet, wet sort of giggle, and Byleth cherished it.

"I'm not mad at you, I just. It's not silly. It's normal. You were really young, and you don't have to pretend that it wasn't hurtful."

Dorothea stopped short.

"You don't have to hide it anymore. At least not with me."

Dorothea crumpled. Her shoulders sagged and her head fell forward as she sobbed with full force. There was no wail or whimper, as if all her breath had been stolen.

Byleth removed the hand from Dorothea's and rose from the chair to let her arms wrap around the sobbing girl. Dorothea was taller than her by a fair bit, but sitting atop the bed Byleth's head fell snugly in the crook of her neck.

Dorothea gripped her fiercely, fists hooked into the fabric of Byleth's nightshirt. Byleth let the sobs rumble through her chest for as long as Dorothea needed.

When her sobs died down, Dorothea mumbled something into Byleth's neck.

Byleth stroked her back soothingly. "What was that?"

Dorothea pulled away just enough, and her warm breath made Byleth shiver.

"I said, thank you Professor. Truly. I don't think anyone has ever made me feel so... seen."

"Of course, Dorothea." Byleth smiled. This time she's certain that her expression was as soft as she felt. "That's what I'm here for."

Dorothea's face grew almost somber for a flash before curling into another smile. A real smile to match Byleth's. Not something those opera nobles saw. Not something the monastery beaus saw. Something truly honest and open and private. And once again, Byleth cherished it in a way she knew went deeper than she realized.

At this point, all the energy seemed rung out of Dorothea. She heaved one last shuddering breath and pulled away from Byleth for good. Byleth felt the chill through the window much more sharply than she expected.

"I'm definitely tired now. It feels good to get all of that off my chest. But is it okay if I stay a little while longer? I'll be quiet while you're grading."

Byleth remembered the tactical assignments on her desk. Dorothea's was graded the night before — she did alright, a solid B+ and a significant improvement from her previous grade. Her tenacity translated in every aspect, and Byleth couldn't help but notice her sit closer to the front each passing month.

"Don't worry. Stay as long as you need." She rose back to the chair with a smile, pausing to lock eyes with her one last time before turning over to the papers.

Not much time passed before she realized she'd read the same paragraph six times. It was Claude's assignment — masterfully written as always — but her brain couldn't seem to click into focus. She thought about a young Dorothea, but stopped herself before she got too angry. 

Eventually she truly gave up and turned around to check on her companion.

Dorothea lay on her side at the edge of the bed, fast asleep. Her night shoes were still on and Byleth thought of helping her out of them without waking her up, but her mind flashed back to Dorothea's past. She couldn't bear to think of touching her ankles in her sleep. She decided to just wash the sheets in the morning — a miniscule price to pay for Dorothea to finally get a comfortable night's rest.

She set upon gently moving her body further into the bed's width and wrapping her under the covers to prevent her from falling out, then wondered where she herself would sleep tonight. She briefly wondered if she could fit beside Dorothea, but quickly decided it risked waking her and was also... kind of embarrassing. She didn't let the thought go further than that. She also figured it crossed a line she shouldn't play with — she still found it weird that she was supposed to be a "professor" when some of her students were barely two years younger than her.

Instead she pulled the chair close enough to the bed and blew out the candle, sitting back down and folding forward to rest her head and arms on the plush surface. She took care to not be too close to the sleeping girl — and she was flexible enough to last the whole night bent in half. 

She fell asleep to the sound of Dorothea's rhythmic breathing.

________________________________________

Dorothea woke to the sight of Byleth's face folded in her arms. She was immensely startled, but she was startled still.

The mercenary, her professor, slept soundly — though precariously. That couldn't be comfortable, could it?

As much as she was amused and delighted by Byleth's catlike position, she also started remembering bits of the night before.

Oh noooooo. She'd never wanted to let anyone know about that — truthfully, not even Manuela knew the specifics. She'd wanted to go to her grave with it, if for nothing else than to never acknowledge it'd happened.

In the morning light, it didn't seem so bad. After all, it was a long time ago. She hadn't seen the noble much after that night — for which she was thankful. And she could breathe easier knowing the old fuck was probably dead by now.

But she was much more affected by Byleth's reactions. She knew Byleth wasn't like that woman, but there was a small fearful part of her that worried telling the story would lead to her being dismissed, not believed, cast aside. Again. As it had always seemed to be for her. Prized and pampered til the moment she complained. You weren't allowed to ask for human decency when you were being “doted” upon, apparently.

But Byleth's indignation and fury gave her a satisfaction she'd never felt before. Like hearing her own anger echoed back at her, rightfully, with all the prophetic power of the goddess herself.

There was a solidity to Byleth's conviction that made Dorothea want to believe that her assault wasn't her fault. That she could acknowledge it and process it. That she didn't have to pretend anymore.

"At least not with me" rattled in her head. It was the droplet that broke the dam — that here was someone so earnest and sincere that saw her, believed her, supported her. That this incredibly powerful person saw power in _her_. 

But the thought twisted inside her. Her professor. Not her lover. Not someone she could marry someday, right? She'd teased once that Byleth could spend the rest of her life with her. The woman's adorable slackjawed expression and even-tempered "OK" sent an undeniable thrill through her. But that hadn't been serious, and no doubt by now her professor saw her only as a student. Not as a woman. Not as a potential w—

Byleth stirred and Dorothea jolted away. She hadn't noticed how close she'd gotten to Byleth's sleeping face.

Byleth looked groggy as she rose, before her sharp perceptiveness snapped into place.

"Hello," she said, infuriatingly plain. For all the ways Dorothea felt exposed in front of her, Byleth's only readable expressions seemed to her Cute Surprised, Cute Angry, and Cute Pout. As well as that sweet smile from the night before...

She didn't know if Byleth regretted letting a student stay in her bed, and was afraid to hear her next words. It was established early on that their professor was close enough in age that it wasn't like Hanneman or something, but still. She would've hated to make Byleth uncomfortable by going past teasing and _actually_ crossing boundaries when she found the woman so hard to read. Just as bad — she'd have hated to get Byleth in trouble for impropriety when in all honesty, Dorothea would be the instigator.

That thought made her blush, and Byleth, naturally, caught it.

She got surprisingly twitchy.

"I hope it's alright I let you sleep here. I just didn't want to wake you when I know you haven't slept."

The uncharacteristic tenderness flooded her with more memories of the night before. The softest she'd ever seen Byleth. The most genuine, the most caring. It was almost enough to send her bawling again.

"No, not at all. I mean, it's totally fine. Thank you again. I haven't slept this much in, well, weeks actually."

She noticed her feet.

"Oh no, did I dirty your bed?" She realized the covers were wrapped around her, and there were bits of soil at her feet.

Byleth got even twitchier.

"Oh, I was going to take your shoes off for you, but then again I... didn't want you to think I'd done anything untoward."

Dorothea saw the slightest slip of a blush. She was caught between that delicious revelation and the thought of how considerate Byleth was to not reach for her feet in the dead of night.

It was the most genuine compassion she'd been shown in a very long time.

It also would have been mortifying to reflexively kick that caring person in the face.

"I appreciate it, Professor. I really do. I'm still sorry that I didn't take them off though." Byleth gave a little "pshh" dismissive noise, and Dorothea started to rise from the bed.

Byleth backed away to give her space, and Dorothea moved toward the door. She didn't really want to leave, but it was probably best if she left before the bustle of the monastery kicked in. Nothing had happened, but it wouldn't do well to feed the rumor mill as the White Heron Cup approached.

But even as she made to leave, she couldn't resist the urge to hold Byleth's head in her hands and plant a gentle kiss on the woman's cheek.

She pulled away to a full blush and the now-familiar Cute Surprised face.

"Thank you again. I hope you know how much you mean to me."

The words were like fire in their scalding honesty. She turned to flee immediately, unable to sit in her own exposure for too long. But she filed Byleth's lovely face into her memories for the next time her past crept in to haunt her.

When Dorothea returned to her room, she set upon writing another letter to her beloved professor. This time about the Goddess Tower.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting fic in like 9 years!!! Wow!!! Anyway I wrote this a few days ago then discovered it was Bylethea week (and incidentally was perfect for Day 5: Nightmare/Comfort).
> 
> I had a lot of Emotions about Dorothea in every route I played -- knowing everything about her upbringing just hit me right where it hurts. This fic had been stewing in my mind since I first had the counselor question, but I stayed up til like 5am the other night to feverishly write this in Evernote on my phone. As one does.
> 
> I felt *extra* validated in this headcanon bc Dorothea's incredible VA Allegra Clark (who doesn't know her by this point??) talked about how Dorothea Went Through Some Shit during her feature on Joe Zieja's Three Houses stream (which is equally incredible). The game didn't outright say it, probably for a lot of reasons, but I felt her experience as an assault survivor needed to be Addressed so our girl can heal. Also if Allegra reads this I WILL die.


End file.
